Edward's Journal In the Shadow of the Eclipse
by Mrs. Cope
Summary: Edward is struggling to find a balance between his heart and his head, and so turns to his journal to use the pen as the point to weigh the two.
1. Chapter 1: Ultimatum

**Ultimatum**

It should not be this difficult. What are a few hours in the face of immortality? I cringe at the answers to this seemingly simple question.

She could. be in danger

She could be hurt.

She could be trapped, alone, and I could be unable to find her. Would Charlie come to me if she were missing? If she were alone, how would I ever find her? I don't know the answer! Can I dismiss this apprehension and anguish?

She could be killed by werewolves.

No. I fear I can't trust those around Bella to take the extraordinary measures necessary to keep her alive, safe, and well. They can never know the love I feel, the intense desire and longing. The tortures of Italy would be a pleasant memory compared to the overwhelming grief if something should happen to my heart, my love, my life…

And now, as wolves enter the picture, the balance of Bella's life and longevity are even more severely at odds. She thinks too little of the danger, too highly of the dogs. She doesn't recognize the depth of my love and need for her. Has she ever truly recognized that?

How does a man, inhuman as I, express the geography of his love to a frail, innocent and overwhelmingly alluring young woman? There is no precedent for this confusion, no history to study, no course to follow. I am freed by my love for her as I am bound: These tethers of love twist me to the earth and lash the fear of losing her into my stone flesh.

I must find a way to manage myself during these short separations or I will go mad. Jasper paces outside my door, my anxiety eats away at him like a cancer. Alice's visions fly so fast, a flipbook of action founded in fear, she's left confounded and dizzy. Am I of no use to anyone during this time?

I cannot measure how this worry grinds into my mind.

I love Bella.

I need Bella.

I cannot lose Bella.

Bella. Bella. Bella.

In the past during times of worry and stress, my pen has set me free and lent me the solace and direction I need. Words and music, musings and song – these have been the salve of my restless soul. But even as I write, I review and see the scratching of a man obsessed; my musical voice seems to ring with worry, turning each song to dirge.

Carlisle has suggested quiet contemplation; an internal gaze upon feelings left behind. My recall is perfect, it's true, but how sharp is my focus. Perhaps this free-form gazing will become a mirror to my mind to help me find release.

Charlie's loosened hold of her brings me no solace, His "compromise" for her invites the danger in, a metaphorical and actual wolf at the door! Bella's heart is big, but it beats too erratically for her own good. My little danger magnet… Her care for the pup can't be allowed to jeopardize her life. It's not that I don't trust her character judgment – she seems unerringly strong in her assessments – but her experience is so limited, she can't know the peril she places in her path. And she clearly does not understand how easily her life could be shattered. My stone heart will break. I can't let that happen.

I won't let that happen.

Tomorrow, these hours away will be filled with the hunt, the run; the days following will be my mediation. I will keep her safe to preserve our love; I will cherish her to preserve our unity; I will shelter her to preserve her life.


	2. Chapter 2: Evasion

**Evasion**

I've seen her visions.

Without a trace, without a backward glance, she's gone and I am desolate. She sat within reach and yet, she was gone. This fear of losing her forever is choking me. I tremble with fear and anguish and I find myself acting in desperation.

And yet, her soul is so light, so full of light, she cheers me in ways that no one can imagine. I see her now, sitting amongst her friends, cheerful and lighthearted, truly enjoying the life around her. I am alive and vibrant in her presence! If Emmett knew how blithe and weightless I feel in her presence, he'd surely wonder where his brother Edward had gone. It's humorous to consider.

Then I see the crease between her brows as Alice's mind reaches to me to show a vision of life without Bella. Even the memory makes me cower in fear.

I don't want Bella to see this weakness in me. Leap from treetop to treetop, or outrun a mountain lion, I am your man. Face the forces of nature, the wrath of God – these are but daily tasks compared to the relentless challenge to keep my Bella safe, warm, whole. I cannot allow her life to slip away, her safety to elude me. I will be her inexorable shield.

The vast difference between love and safety is a chasm I seem unable to span. Bella is my world, true enough. But my world encroaches on her day by day, and this bold trespass marks my limits. No treaty bound me so tightly; no Italian watchdog chained my heart so thoroughly. My heart is bound to her; my marble flesh is chained to her blushing, her warm and tender heartbeat. Even as I write, I long to fly to her. My time is short here, my need is great. To be at her side, as her protector, that is my quest.

I cannot, will not leave her; no, never again. But to keep her safe… Where does one go?

And still, she leaves the window open to me. Incredible.

As I watch her sleep, I see the child she must have been. Peaceful, independent… How can one so frail, so _breakable_ be so stubborn and headstrong. Is she simply enigmatic? Is it my perception of her, or is this true in the world? She nearly defies defense; must I tighten my grasp? I am at a loss. I don't know how to do this.

Surely time with Renee will benefit her. A woman's touch that is supple and warm must provide her with respite from myth and monster. I will suffer no inconvenience if it provides her with rest and love.

I wonder if she dreaming, sorting out the choices, decisions and alternatives that shape who she is, who we are. We don't live in the monumental, but in the extraordinary ordinariness of everyday. Monumental decisions are too crushing, so we break them down in to smaller pieces. What may seem as destiny is a accumulation of smaller decisions made along the way. It's not the destination; it's the journey. I wonder if she dreams of the journey.

See how she moves her hand through her hair, even in slumber? Remember this, Edward. This a moment to savor, when innocent Bella Swan turned woman in sleep. She bites her lip, only for a moment and then – gone! Back deeply asleep – no, somniloquy – my name… Ah…


	3. Chapter 3: Motives

**Motives**

What forces must the universe have put in motion to bring Bella into being? Charlie's thoughts, careful while uncomplicated; Renee's mind, childlike and yet, somehow, _knowing_… I am baffled. I can't imagine how their meeting could have been chance, how their paths could be anything but fated. How did these two ever come together? A puzzle, coincidence, or do the fates mock me again?

Florida is a careful ballet of watching for Bella and listening to Renee. I can pirouette around Renee's random insights while she observes Bella and me, together, but I feel entirely earthbound at times such as now, when they are alone together. Mother and daughter, how much do they share? Bella will never reveal an iota that would put Renee at risk, but she's unaware of how much and how clearly Renee sees us.

Watching them together, I wonder about my future life with Bella. I will never let her away from me. I know my days will be filled with Bella and Bella again. But when does my constant attention and guardianship become the stranglehold that breaks her from me forever? Renee left Charlie; she felt strangled. Will my Bella leave me? And, if she does, how will I stay close enough to keep her from peril?

Writing the words, "Bella leave me" makes me ache and crave their return. Where are they?

In a way, Renee's view of us delights me. She sees our bond, she sees the need between us. Two of a kind, yet separate, distinct. No, not two of a kind, two interlocking pieces to be more precise. In all but the physical sense, we are exactly that. Her perception is sharp: she sees my worry, my careful guarding over her girl. Her interpretation of that protection leaves her mystified. She knows something is amiss, but can't decipher what it is. I should be grateful that her intuition surpasses her knowledge and her need to understand.

I'm uncertain Bella understands my sheltering care as clearly; if she did, would she still place herself in such jeopardy with the Quiluetes?

I must work on the control of my temper. He's a child; he sees things from a child's perspective. His physical stature implies maturity, but it is a lie. It is apparent that he will do whatever it takes to derail Bella's safety.

Damn Jacob! Why he would ever invite Bella into the maelstrom of violence that is Victoria? He thinks he enlightens her. He thinks he protects her. Hah! From me? He doesn't understand how fragile she really is, even after all those months of …

I have suffered through pain unimaginable, endured through desolation and despair, survived confusion and chaos that would shred the sanity of most humans. But I had known nothing of agony until the memories of my sweet Bella flooded Jacob's mind. How she was driven, all from my insecurity and fear, to the company of that… boy, that dog. Will his memories ever fade? I cannot control the malicious cut; it festers because it is true. Bella, my love. I am so very sorry. I can never hurt her again like that.

I cannot control the cut, but I must control the pain. She is a bright soul who would suffer to know I hurt. Jacob must not allow her to suffer; she must not suffer. All this pain he brings bound in a bright ribbon of friendship for her. It is like the bright seal on a funeral urn: beautiful to see from a distance, but inside, filled with bones, decay and death.

I have agreed to tell her the next time Victoria returns, and I will abide by that agreement. How could I bear the hurt in those deep eyes, hurt borne of my love for her? I cannot. But she is under my guard. I will not allow Jacob, Victoria or myself to hurt her. This I vow.


	4. Chapter 4: Nature

**Nature**

Carlisle finds his inner peace through meditative consideration. His books provide a medium to achieve an inner solace that allows his true self to emerge. This was his gift to me as I returned to the fold, and I had promised myself quiet time to reflect, to quell the internal rage that clouds my vision. I took that opportunity while hunting with Emmett, and I am astonished at the results.

There is little respite from reality for a vampire, and isn't that odd? One would think as one joined the choir of the mythological one would divorce entirely from reality, but just the opposite is true; with no diversion from the years, the actuality of the everyday binds us to this world, and this world only. For what life can I expect after I leave here?

Sleep is no longer mine, and so dreaming has fallen to rot at my feet to accompany those other human diversions. Perfect recall has kept me from delusion and revision; it is who I am to be who I am now, yesterday, tomorrow. A surprise that bubbles from within me is unusual and unexpected.

As Emmett ran, I closed my eyes in the depth of the forest and focused on an internal solitude that I so rarely find. I hummed, holding a d prime for as long as the breath would allow, then sounding the note mentally as my interior mantra. Relaxing, slowly descending in thought. I plunged down my days, down my moments and released those worries, bidding them goodbye as I moved down in thought. The release of the rational, the psychic descent became almost tangible, as if I were controlling the spin of the planet with my psychic state.

Then, it just popped into my head, unbidden, borne of nothing.

_Elizabeth stood at the edge of the yard, pretty in the delicate pink that mimicked the beauty of her cheeks. "Edward, be careful!"_

_I was six. A small brown and white mouse was at my feet, trembling with fear and excitement on its first outdoor excursion. I was stooping to look at my little pet. It was so much smaller than me, how could that be? Where'd he put all his air, and still have room to eat? _

_I wanted to pick it up and look at it more closely. I reached out my hand._

"_Edward, love, here. Let Mother." She reached down and picked up the ball of fur, cupping it in her hand and nestled it against her breast. "Yes," she cooed to it, "I know. The world is so big and frightening." She looked down at me with green eyes that smiled. _

"_Mother, why is he shaking like that? Is he scared?" I asked, my little voice at once surprising and familiar. _

"_Yes, Edward, he's frightened. The world is so wide, and he doesn't understand it like you and I can," we were walking back towards the house. Ask she spoke, she softly stroked the small creature. "We can think things through and decide what we want to do, and he can't, the poor dear." She lifted the small creature with both hands and raised him to her eye level. "Can you, you poor wee thing?" _

_We approached the house, her skirts swishing softly in the summer breeze. A stray hair lifted in the wind and came to rest across the back of her neck beneath the upsweep of her bronze hair. As I approached the steps to the porch, she turned and sat on the top step, nuzzling the mouse against the warmth of her cheek. _

"_Can I hold him, Momma?" I looked up at her. She was so beautiful in this love-infused memory, she seemed to glow with a light from inside her._

"_Yes, Edward, but be careful not to squeeze too hard, you'll hurt him." She leaned down and placed the mouse in my tiny hands. "There. Only a little though. It's almost time for supper. She stood, love emanating from her face, and patted my head. "My Edward," she said, and she was gone. _

In this last century, no human memory has been so unclouded and clear. I had all but forgotten this woman; Esme is my mother. And yet it was all so… so right. How can that be? From where did this memory come, and why this memory that seemed so small and insignificant?

I am unlikely to forget. There are so many pieces that puzzle me of late; I must put this away until I can examine it again more clearly. For now, for now, I set her aside; for now, I will run and I will feed.


	5. Chapter 5: Imprint

**Imprint**

I could not get back here fast enough. I am blind with fear and rage, on the brink of heartbreak, vehement in my Volvo..

I cannot fathom this disappearance. What was the enticement used by the boy to move her to forbidden ground? Sickness? Danger? Near-death experience? I cannot understand. My mind seethes with inquietude and I am undone. And yet, I must wait, I must remain at the edge of perdition besotted by alarm and dread.

I have lived through worry before; I can endure it now. But must I? Would the cost be so high, if a small transgression were made for the sake of her safety? Surely, no human could fault such a motive. I could leave the car, and run…

I would be faulted, have no doubt. What danger is she in? What crisis did I seek to cure? Only her time with Jacob; only her closeness to a rival, albeit a werewolf. Yes, I would be faulted.

How can I endure this interminable wait in this amaranthine rage? The pen does not calm; the music does not soothe. I am nerve and edge and of no use. I stand on the border between my love and my peace. There must be some cure for this void.

I will never doubt my love for Bella, but the boundaries of my devotion are unknown even to me. This love, a blessing wrapped in razors, is carved into my thought, etched and imprinted in my existence. I seek company in this wasp nest of love! Neruda:

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz_

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between shadow and the soul._

_I love you as the plant that never blooms_

_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,_

_I love you simply, without problems or pride:_

_I love you in this way_

_because I don't know any other way of loving_

_but this, in which there is no I nor you,_

_so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,_

_so intimate that when I fall asleep_

_it is your eyes that close._

How he must have loved! Surely he felt as feeble and insecure as I at this moment of crisis.

I am resolved. I shall cross the line and retrieve my beating heart, whatever consequence may come. Carlisle must understand. I -

At last! I see her truck approaching! How achingly slow it moves.

_I am told: you belong to darkness._

_Perhaps, perhaps, but I walk toward the light._


	6. Chapter 6: Switzerland

**Switzerland**

Tonight, I am beset with confusion. Alice's visions have me on edge, and I suppose there is nothing new in that knowledge.

Soon, there will be a day when my need will battle my love. The outcome is not yet clear to Alice, but even less defined to me.

Bella weakens me as she strengthens my resolve. My arms are strong, more unyielding than steel and stone. My love is steadfast, unbending and vehement in its purpose. She will never again doubt me, never doubt my love again.

I look into her eyes and vast walls of steel and concrete thunder to the ground. The earth shudders and twists, treaty lines dissolve. She reaches for my hand and the heart that stammered to a stop over a century ago stirs and finds her rhythm, her pulse with which to move. The gossamer of her cheek flushes with life as she lays my hand upon her fluttering heart, and the warm throbbing of heart shows me she loves me, too. She loves me. She loves me, too.

My love is steadfast. My love shall be her fortress, my arms will be her armor. She will never doubt my love again.

The pixie in the fray can have her fun. She will be my knight; her steed, my gift. Her gifts to me are assurances and doubt: Bella will be safe, but need and love will be at war.

Oh, was there e'er a man so misguided in love?


	7. Chapter 7: Unhappy Ending

**Unhappy Ending**

I've felt so confused and numb these past days. Running momentarily lifted my spirits, but there was no thrill in the hunt, no satisfaction in the drink. I'm afraid I've been a terrible brother to Emmett.

The second mountain lion I devoured left me full, but unsated. Some restlessness beset me; running, hunting, fellowship with my brother – nothing would lead me to name it.

I decided to once again try Carlisle's suggestion, hoping for a name to this inner turbulence and need. Relaxing my breathing, turning my thoughts inward past my character, past my flaws…

And, unbidden, I was transported to my birth mother's side once more. This time, the scene was not pleasant, not a happy memory of some forgotten day. Though I was still small and my mother still wore the same delicate pink dress, her face was a mask of grief and distress.

"_Edward, what did I tell you?" she asked, her voice raw and raspy. . _

"_Momma, I'm sorry."_

"_What did I tell you? Do you remember?"_

"_You said to be careful." My little head bowed and looked at my feet._

"_Be careful to what, Edward?" Her voice was hoarse but steady; she was making a point. _

"_Be careful not to squish him." A tear rolled down my check in guilt and shame._

"_Why? Why were you supposed to be careful?"_

"_Because he was so little." I knew I was wrong, and I couldn't bring myself to raise my head._

"_Edward." I still looked down, fearing the worst of her anger to usher through her calm voice. "Edward, look at me." _

_Slowly, I raised my head and looked up at her through my teary lashes. There, in her cupped hand, was a tiny brown and white mouse, dead. "Edward, he's dead. This was why I asked you to be careful." Her voice was flat and emotionless._

_I began to cry in earnest and through my sobs said, "Momma, momma, can't you make him better? Fix him momma, please, fix him. I didn't mean to hurt him! I was just loving him!"_

_She laid the mouse on a paper on the counter, and knelt down to me. She picked up the hem of her dress and dabbed at my tears. My face was hot with inconsolable sadness. "Edward, I can't fix him," she said, relenting her harshness in the face of my heartbreak. "He's gone. He's never coming back, love." I began to cry harder still, and she pulled me into the circle of her arms, cooing, "Come here, love."_

"_Edward, when something… dies," she started. I could see in her face this was difficult for her. "It can't come back. It no longer exists, sweetheart. It can't breathe, it can't love, it can't feel. I know this is hard for you to understand, but once something or someone dies, they're gone forever." She took a deep breath, twisting her face around to mine. "You can remember them and keep them alive that way, but that's all. What they are, who they are – well, that's gone."_

"_Why momma? Why? Why do they have to go away? Where do they go?" I was crying, my small frame shaking with sobs._

"_That's a very good question, Edward. People have talked about this for as long as anyone can remember." She looked away from me, considering it for herself. "I believe that we go to meet God, and be with Him. And it's so nice being there, we never come back here."_

"_But," I cried, softer now, "I still want to play with him. I'm not done!" _

"_Edward, that's why I asked you to be careful, love. They can't ever play with you again. Mousie is gone now, sleeping, but he's never going to wake up. I know you loved him, but he's gone now." _

_My mouth hung open in a mask of pain and sobs. "No, momma, no. I want him back," I cried, rubbing my weeping eyes with my tiny fist. "I want him baaacckkk…"_

_She leaned away from me and held me with her hands on my arms. "Edward, I know you do, and I wish I could make that happen. But he's gone." I could see the ache all parents feel as they try to explain death to someone so young and full of life. She sighed. "You're so little, Edward. You're my little boy, and I love you. Do you know how much I love you?" She peered into my sad little face. "My love for you is so big, sometimes I'm afraid I'll hold you too close and hurt you." Her loving green eyes bore into mine. "But because I love you, I hold you just right. That's what love is, sweetheart." She took me in her arms and held me, pressing her cheek to mine. She held me just right._

"_But I loved him!" I whimpered, my anguish fading into the sleepiness that blesses upset children. _

_She scooped me up into her arms and began to walk to the stairs. I saw the mouse lying on the counter before I turned my head into her chest. "I know you loved him, I know that. But sometimes loving someone too hard can destroy them. Do you understand?"_

It was in that moment, in that memory that I realized that Carlisle had been right. The answer had been with me all along, and only now, could I recognize and name my unrest: My love was crushing Bella to death.


	8. Chapter 8: Temper

**Temper**

Time and again, I struggle with her perception of my love for her. She says she loves me, and so I believe; but can she ever, truly, in her human state know the passion that boils for her beneath this skin of stone?

She lies in _my_ bed, in _my_ home, in _my_ arms. What a vision to breach tonight! She could not know the joy that swelled within me upon witnessing her here, amongst my things, belonging here, belonging with me. Though she slept, she rang vibrantly alive and reposed. Here. Mine. _Mine._ My possessiveness allayed my distress. I became more of a man.

And so, my undoing.

My thoughts crash around her, wild and eager to be with her as husband to wife, but that day must wait. It _must_! Knowing that she is fragile now, knowing I crush her with my desperate, choking love… The physical part of me, the man left inside me, yearns to break free and take her.

Let me think of a better day. There, the stirrings of a song, yes, that _is_ what that day will be… Lilting, lifting, lithe and free – a day when we are happy and free of this world.

_Spontaneous me, Nature,  
The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with,  
The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,  
The hill-side whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash,  
The same, late in autumn—the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and light and dark  
green,  
The rich coverlid of the grass—animals and birds—the private untrimm'd  
bank—the primitive apples—the pebble-stones,  
Beautiful dripping fragments—the negligent list of one after another, as I happen to  
call them to me, or think of them,  
The real poems, (what we call poems being merely pictures,)  
The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me,  
This poem, drooping shy and unseen, that I always carry, and that all men carry,  
(Know, once for all, avow'd on purpose, wherever are men like me, are our lusty,  
lurking, masculine poems…_

Again! I am undone again, by a dead man's barbaric yawp! Her scent fills me and the combination of his words mixed with her aroma is heady. Improper. Once again my physical desire collides with the chaste restraint I must exercise today.

This night is mine to adore her. This night my spirit sings knowing she begrudges sharing my attention, even with those of my past. The years behind me drop like a stone in the sea; the future unfurls before me like a map of the universe with countless worlds to explore, explore together, throughout eternity, intimate, warm, private… How will I make it through this everlasting night? How will she make it through this night?

It is a soft purring that saves me now. You've saved me, love, and so saved yourself, and so saved us. Ah, love, you've saved us again.


	9. Chapter 9: Target

**Target **

I am in new territory once again.

There are no paths to lead her into my arms other than my reassurances and hopes. I have given her my heart and I must give her the freedom to give her heart back to me. It is tangled, the heart made insecure by absence, even when the absence was itself an act of love.

_Ah! what is not a dream by day_

_To him whose eyes are cast_

_On things around him with a ray_

_Turned back upon the past?_

The ramblings of an unrepentant alcoholic, or the musings of a lost soul? I've often wondered. I'm inclined to believe a bit of both, for in the state of being lost, would one wish to numb the pain? It seems likely.

I want Bella to know me, know me deeply and recognize me as her own. I want her to understand the flow of passion I have for her cannot wither, or fade, or be surpassed by any other woman, man, or ideal; I would abase myself and forsake all that I hold dear for her love.

I never tire of watching her sleep. I will sing her into that sweet goodnight at any chance. I will send her my heart, my existence, my everything in every song I can command. I can leave no doubt for her.

I will never understand how she holds me so enraptured with whimpers and snatches of thoughts mumbled in sleep. My pen - I have outlasted the dawn. I intended to write more, but her sleeping form captivated me, and now, I must leave. The day will come, the day will come; I know that one day, I'll watch her rise as surely as I now watch her sleep.


	10. Chapter 10: Scent

**Scent**

Today, the quiet moment I try to find within myself just will not come. No matter the posture I take, I cannot shape my mind to a point of relaxation that will allow my interior self to emerge.

I begin to understand the plague Alice controls with each glimpse of tomorrow. The weight of the future is a heavy thing hefted on the backs of reporters, journalists and photographers. But for Alice, each of those weighted snippets of the destinies ahead is personalized, focused, bearing down with so much force they transform from what lies ahead to become what lies in wait.

So it is with my visions for Bella. The imbalance of circumstance that encircles our love throws our everyday, little lives out of kilter, careening wildly into infinity. This newborn menace is rising, gaining traction and number. Compound this with the Volturi commination… The explosion awaits. Danger seeks her out! And even now, she is in the clutches of the werewolves who could, with the faintest slight or change in disposition, completely destroy her, and so destroy us.

I wonder what she thinks. Her mind is so profoundly observant on so many levels; surely she sees the threats that taint and befoul our future. Each element of peril adds another malodorous cloud over our sky. As if the werewolf aroma alone were not repugnant enough…

I've known few times when the happenstance of my lack of blood played to my benefit, but in the garage today, I was grateful for the inability to blush. Bella thinks I am so careful and sure-footed. If she knew the depths of my mortification, she would know that appearance is only a façade, and a poorly constructed one at that.

I thought it was the speed, the air pocketed around you as the bike sliced through the day; I thought it was the motion and the heightened sense of exhilaration. I thought we would ride together, she would lead the way, her scent carried on the air surrounding me, a taste in the chase. I thought this was an experience that, though perceived in our states as human and vampire, we could nonetheless enjoy simultaneously, separately, jointly. She could show me the joyful side of humanity; I could show her the exhilaration of my world.

Love has made me the fool. Her hesitancy shouted my error, and I saw the nuances that bespeak her discomfort as she took in the bike. It was wrong of me; I see that now. Another instance of the crushing love I feel for her. Of course she must have friendships that are unique and specific to her, a part of her that is private, separate. I must let her breathe. I will miss that experience with her.

It's such a lovely machine, and I was right: Jasper and Alice are out riding now as I write. At least I was able to turn my stupidity into a gift that brought delight to my brother and his wife.

Someday, I hope to bring that delight to my wife. She could be my wife, if she would have me. I _believe_ she loves me.

_Mrs. Edward Cullen. _

_Bella Cullen. _

It fits.

I can hear Carlisle's immersion in his study, Esme's concentration on her plans. Were they ever lovesick, star-crossed, foolish in their need for each other? I don't remember those thoughts unfolding for them; it was always as predestined and unavoidable. Their love was not hesitant or shy, but steady from the first, like a clear, sustained peal of a chime that never faded, never lost its constancy, always strong and vibrant. I wish I were of stronger stuff, wiser. All I know is that I love her, I will always love her and she loves me.

Waiting without purpose is not wise. There is a small bloom of a song that promises a bouquet. I will play to track the trail of that perfume.


	11. Chapter 11: Legends

**Legends**

So many times, she has seemed so small and fragile to me, that the stubbornness and loyalty she bears for Jacob is always stunning and stinging.

Is it friendship? Is it loyalty? Is it love? I've always believed the "gra dilseacht cairdeas" would be between us, only for us. Yet… I am confused.

I have lost the humanity that allows me to grasp these small differences. She brings them to me, small offerings of friendship and hope, and though they are mine to take and I desire to take them, I do not understand them. Does she speak to Jacob of me as she does to me of Jacob? Surely the answer must be no.

In all the years I have walked this earth, in all the years I have come to know my obsessive nature, I have never been possessed so deeply by any other being as I am by Bella. I see her in every vista, in every painting, in every room of this house; I see her in every page of every book and hear her in every note of every song I've ever heard. When I have just left her side, she is a dull wanting, a loss when not at my side; she is a vagrant word in a chapter or an undertone of a melody; the longer the absence, the most insistent the song, the more riveting the page. I cannot speak to my family without mention of her; I cannot express my thoughts here as each drifting notion carries her voice, her scent, her essence. I am consumed by her; I am enveloped by her, and yet she is not here. Confusing, the strength of it all, for how can I demand more of her and give her the freedom for life she must have, the freedom I must give?

I see myself as clear as I may, and as I peer upon my own visage I know who and what I am. Allow the thought of her beating heart, warm cheek, sweet-scented breath to enter, and the picture shifts; I am no longer immortal, I am no longer vampire, I am no longer man. Reduced to tense, wanton anxiety, I lose my form. I am want of her; I am the need of her.

All this fixation does me no good, yet I seem unable to move away. I am Narcissus who gazes into the pool, but sees not himself, but my heart gazing back to me with deep chocolate eyes. I am not Orpheus, as she is not lost to me, but I cannot turn to be sure of her or I will forever lose her. I am not legend and I am not myth, yet time does not pass in thoughts of her.

At last I begin to see him clearly. His love deforms him as it saves him; cripples him as it frees him. The life his love gives to him is the life he then will give back to his love. Outside the bell jar of his love, his life, he is monstrous, hideous, beast; but within the swirling flow of love he is free and lighter than air, sweet smelling and generous. And though he would damn his rivals, the bell jar blissfully binds him, so that the torrent within will rage only in its absence.

Ah. At last I understand.


	12. Chapter 12: Time

**Time**

Time is a queer thing.

As I was reborn, time became meaningless. Where before the number of my days foretold my actions, defined my efforts and prescribed my achievements, I found myself suddenly free of those restraints. Time no longer flew or ran short. I existed with no fear of the darkness, no number of the days, the years. Time stretched before me as an everlasting resource, air, earth, to be used, consumed without care or thought.

I stood immutable in the river of time as past, present and future flowing around me. I did not change; I did not wear; I neither aged nor eroded. I lost nothing to time; I gained nothing from time.

Bella has changed time forever.

Such a small and fragile human, she has the power over meaning and measurement. She has given time has dimension. When I am not with her; it becomes long and heavy, a burden I must carry until in her company again. When I am with her, time is fleeting, elusive flowing around me and sweeping her from my embrace. In her arms, I am free of the bonds of time. In my arms, time becomes her burden. (The memory of her scent, close to me, pulls me into a reverent dream and my body burns…)

She rushes to immortality, spurred on by my embrace. The closer I draw her to me, the more insistently she begs to end her life, to give up her soul, to embrace life without end.

This seems far too indicative of our plight to be purely coincidental. Though we love, though we need, the growth of these emotions inversely affects us. If out of love for Bella, I protect her body and soul, time robs her of the length of her love for me. As I pull her closer to me, time pushes her away.

Such a day, such a longing, night in eternity… I long for her. Does she understand my need? I remain unchanged.

I want her to be my wife, to be mine always, with me forever. I dream of a day when I am more of a man for her, a husband. I dream of a day when that I need most from her is no longer threatened by that which calls me most. The warmth of her flesh surpasses the physical, which is, in itself, a stunning concept. Her warmth is all I crave; nothing less than the burning of our flesh together will ease the thoughts that sear me and release me from this torment.

My need becomes my umbra and my mind hides in its shade. Lurking here in the darkness, can I be the man of which she dreams?

Of what does she dream? In all the nights I've lain beside her or watched her across the room, she is as mysterious as ever. I once believed giving witness to her restless somniloquy would afford me a greater understanding of the scope of her desires, but I stand outside still, watching, waiting. Her mute mind still confounds me even now, when I know her so well and know so much more of myself.

What good is self-knowledge in absence of your lover's perception? I can't understand how Alice loves Jasper, or Jasper loves Alice… I've seen their thoughts, both of them, and I can confirm that the contours of their love fit together as lock and key; the same is true for Carlisle and Esme, Rosalie and Emmett. I am the witness to their love; I can attest to their match. Where is my witness? There are none that know Bella's mind, save Bella.

She loves me, of this I'm certain. Though I cannot hear the tenor of her thoughts or attest the purity of her commitment to me, I am confirmed of her desire for me in her heartbeat, the commitment to me in her action. Does she love me for the freedom from time that waits in the vampire's kiss? Does she love me for some imagined prize of life eternal? Would she love Carlisle, Emmett, Jasper if they would but promise her eternity?

Why does she reject marriage? Why would she reject marriage? Husband, monster, villain; does the rejection lie within these words, or should I point that rejection more accursedly at my being, me?

I do not want to believe this. Although I cannot read her mind, I cannot believe such a vile heart beats in her chest. That is impossible. Yet, I cannot rob her of her time, of her life, nor can I stop time for her. I simply don't understand. Musing here provides no answers.

The truth be told, I am at my core more of a monster than she ever suspects. My choice was ripped from me – so be it. The flow of time brought Bella out of its depths, and presented a dream of desire in flesh before me, as if in compensation for the lack of choice. Bella must never make this deal with time. It must be her choice. Knowing this, I would have Bella immortal with my next breath if I could. Base, greedy, hungry – yes, that creature stirs inside me as I consider my need.

I crave her touch on my skin, her scent in my mind, her warmth in my cold, dead heart. And the erratic throbbing of her heart as we embrace tells no lie; she craves me, too.

As we delay, as we resolve these roadblocks, time steals from her, steals her from me, and, robber that it is, it shall never return.


	13. Chapter 13: Newborn

**Newborn**

I must find a quiet moment.

I see the darkness coming in the flickering pictures in Alice's thoughts. I see the plans, attacks and counterattacks, and their constant rearranging in Jasper's head; his military background and experience lead him to advance and retreat mentality, even when he is not conscious of it.

I have been most attuned with the thoughts of these two. Though Carlisle knows the possible extent of the damage, his allegiances prevent him from forming clear scenarios of the threats. Alice and Jasper seem to comprehend the coming danger much more clearly. It is frightening.

Bella shows me her fear through a million nuances, each of which she struggles to hide. I watched her face through Jaspers eyes and felt her fears, horror and concern through Jasper's emotion-flooded mind. This gave me a way to know her more deeply: to feel the shock of the images of death and destruction, the sharp spike of empathy for Jasper's immersion into that world. He expected these feelings, he did not protect her and so told his story. I did not stop him; she needs to know, to understand. Matching her reactions through Jasper's eyes to those small ticks that leave me so curious, I mapped the geography of her heart.

And now, I must turn within to rediscover the path of my heart.

As I watched Bella, Carlisle watched me. His thoughts were of Bella, yes. But my heart breaks to acknowledge his concern for me. Since my return, he considers us as one yet still separate. His question to me was as though spoken: _Edward, how do we keep you safe?_ I let my eyes return the answer without words: I don't know. Bella is all, Bella is everything. I cannot be safe while she stands in harms way.

Carlisle has again beseeched me to look within, reflectively, to find some solution to my own worry. He knows I can protect her, and that I _wil_l protect her, but he craves a remedy for my protection as well. She sleeps now, and I watch over her from this chair as I have so many nights.

I am always astonished when my human memories return. _"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."_ Though the text drafts the image of the godhead within each human soul, it oddly applies to these memories as well. Could they be a gift from God? Or am I outside His reach in this undead state?

_I could hear my mother and father speaking quietly, in soft whispers meant only for each other. It was as if what they said drew me to them. I crept down the stairs, avoiding the fourth step down that creaked. Peeking around the corner, I could see my mother pull her hand through my father's dark hair as she spoke to him._

"_Edward is still a baby, though, and I know he is devastated. Would it hurt him so much to have another pet? Something more durable, perhaps? A dog?" Her face was lined with concern. _

"_Elizabeth, he's growing. It hurts to lose what you love, through neglect, age or accident, but those things must happen. This is a part of growing," he said, setting the paper down and turning to her. "He needs to understand this, to learn this in full measure. How will he know loss, how will he fear loss if he does not know its sting?" He paused, looking into her eyes. "You needn't worry for him, my darling. He will learn from this loss and know love, by and by." He raised his hand to her brow, gently stroking away the tension she held. "He's a good boy. Give it time."_

"_Oh, Edward, he's so much like you, love," she said, leaning her cheek towards him. He cupped her face in his hand. "When he cried tonight, my heart broke for him. I want to protect him and keep him safe just as much today as I did on the day he was born."_

"_Elizabeth, the beauty of your face is eclipsed only by the beauty of your soul." _

"_Edward," she sighed as he leaned towards her for a kiss. I hid my face. _

_In a little minute, I peeked through my fingers. They were just looking at each other, and I couldn't look away from them._

"_Do you think he'll grow up, fall in love and get married?" She wasn't asking as much as sketching the future she wished to see._

"_Yes, love, he will. And if he is very good and very fortunate, he will find a woman as beautiful as his mother to fill his days and his nights." They were now facing each other on the settee, focused on their dreams for their son._

"_Edward, am I wrong to protect him so? Am I selfish? He is ours, our baby and I just love him so."_

"_No, my love, never, never wrong. Your heart is complete, and your love for Edward is true and sound. It makes me love you all the more."_

_Though I was small, my heart felt swollen with love for her. With my child's face pressed into the banister, I thought, 'I love you, too, Mommy.'_

Would they smile to see me now, besotted with love yet immortal, made of stone? Would they love me still? Their dreams for me have become mine, and I, too, dream of the day I am married.

My mother never lost this protectiveness of me; as Carlisle has shown me, her dying wish was for my safety, my deliverance from death. And so I was delivered – forever. I have learned through loss the value of love. Though my view of myself may be through a glass darkly, I see my love so clearly, so flawlessly.

I cannot answer Carlisle's question. I cannot protect myself from love, nor do I desire such protection. I have lived through the coldness of hell without my heart, and I know that only her warmth will soothe me. She is of immeasurable value, a woman so beautiful to fill my days and my nights. She is my treasure. I will pay any price to protect my love.

Should I consider the unthinkable? Shall I protect her as my mother delivered me?


	14. Chapter 14: Declaration

**Declaration**

Today, I lay the foundation for the structure of our lives.

A plan is a start, but it is only a start. Line must be laid with brick; brick must be laid upon brick; mortar must seal the two together. This is how the structure becomes reality. This is how infatuation becomes love.

Perhaps she senses, on some level, that the foundation is unsound, crude and unprepared. She knows me so well; her deep chocolate eyes miss nothing. Does she see the monster still within me? Perhaps this is the cause of her hesitation.

Though I love her now and always, throughout time, there are characters of my nature that decimate my love, rooms within me that I must expunge to actualize our home.

Anger and rage may plot against my plan, demolishing what we've built, but it serves us, too. This is tricky, insidious. The immediacy and power caged in this room havebeen my strength at times. Without my rage, James would walk the world today and Bella would not. How to control? It has no place within our home for each other, but must be ready, available for defense against threats to our existence, not threats to our love.

Jealousy. It has no place in our world. She has never proven untrustworthy or false. She says she loves me. Her kiss holds the promise of physical love. I have no cause to doubt her.

Let others state what they may, what they must. She is steadfast. Her heart may face challenge and feel torn, but her love for me is undeniable. I must know this, without request for evidence; has she not given evidence to me of her love in Italy – indeed, with every breath of every day?

This brick is heavy and persistent. As I cast it away as flawed and unworthy, it creeps back to the pile in stealth, waiting the moment of weakness that will come to assert itself. I must remove it again, examine it, know its depth and breadth so that as I build, it is recognized. I cannot build as I destroy.

That door is closed. Now and for good, I cannot allow that frailty to weaken our foundation.

My thirst is quenched for the moment and I am full. It's best to decide things when the hunger does not accelerate my need. I must remember this feeling completely and allow no nuance of my plan to go unrealized.

She is of the age of consent. It must be her choice, always her choice. It is a hefty decision, to renounce your life in the name of love. The world is so wide, exciting, filled with peril and pleasure. I came to this world unwillingly and I wonder what reactions to human existence would have been mine had I the opportunity. I wish her to know what she leaves behind, so that the step to eternity is not one of everlasting regret. I want her to come with me, not to me, without loss populating each room of our lives.

My mother and father were decent, loving people who faced eternity together in this world and the next. My adopted mother and father have made the same decision and have shown my family the way. Though some have walked eternal in loneliness, they have found their reason to live and made choices along the way to build their lives together.

I have found my reason. I have found my heart, my soul. I have made my choices and I will build my home with her, always, forever, eternal with her.

There will be a day, and soon I pray, that our home will be built, complete in a way. There will be a day when I offer her the key and she will accept, and enter. On that day, I will be complete. On that day, I will know why I was born a man, why I was reborn a vampire, and why the interminable wait has been so necessary.


	15. Chapter 15: Wager

**Wager**

A trial today, everyday. The foundation was shaken, but it did not break.

_Every day, _

_Speculating if she knows how delicate my heart lays in her hands_

_It is a small thing, lonely, lost_

_A rock that sits in my chest; _

_Held by her it grows and grows,_

_With her love and light it warms and glows_

_And I am comforted again_

I dream of Bella in my house. Her soul lights each room and casts a uplifting incandescence that casts out the gloom. Focused on her, her beauty, her heart, how can I speak, how can I write but in words of poetry?

_Every night, _

_Gambling against the everlasting darkness that has been my life without her_

_I will not lose, I cannot lose_

_As long as she will love me, have me_

_Held by her I rise and flow_

_By her love and light I sigh and know_

_That she is with me still _

It could all leave me, so fleetingly, if she were harmed or lost. The idea of her pain tears at me now and threatens every brick I've placed so carefully to the structure of our lives together. The dog has no idea of rage or terror, or what my own horrific viciousness would mean if she is ever, ever hurt again. I endure his presence only by her will.

I dream of Bella in our house, in our home, in our bed. I dream of Bella happy, requited, without care or worry to ever cross her brow.

_Every heartbeat_

_Risking between light and shadow in a careful wager between love and loss_

_My life, my light, my heart_

_Frail as she is, she holds me more fragile still_

_Together we are of stronger stuff_

_Held by her we affirm and hold_

_Through her love and light she shows_

_That we are one, together_

I do not know how to fill her days with enough humanity to last forever. I do not know how to keep her safe and let her live, make mistakes, learn, grow, fall, rise… Oh trust, a simple word; an impossible execution.

Bella, my heart, my love. I want to believe you are mine, I believe you are mine. Tell me you are mine.

As the day approaches, the night pulls in around her. Perhaps she doesn't see it, perhaps the cold hasn't touched her yet. Still, I hear it; I see it. So full of love and heat, I worry fort the dying of the light.


	16. Chapter 16: Epoch

**Epoch**

How –

I have been so blind! My life, my heart at risk. My focus has slipped; my concentration yields no answers, yet this young woman – just a girl really – sees the answer that I – in my age and wisdom! Hah! – failed to perceive.

Bella! _Bella!_ Il mio cuore è tuo, il tuo cuore è mio, che distruggerà la nostra casa? Nessuno te lo giuro! None, not one. Although I doubt myself, I doubt everything, none shall destroy our home.

I want to scream and rage. I want to tear the night to shreds and accuse the stars for her peril, destroy the villain who desecrates our home and threatens our happiness. I want to _hurt_ them, hurt them badly before I take their life. I want to blame someone. I want them to _pay_.

Eu vou matar aqueles que feriria o meu amor. Meu amor será o nosso escudo. Is my heart strong enough for two? Let them come to me. Eles vão saber a minha ira; sapranno mia ira! Limb from limb…Let them know my wrath.

Yet look around for the villain: I see only myself and my own ineptitude staring back at me. I've jeopardized her again. I've focused on the wrong things, worried about the dog, worried about the ring, worried about all the wrong things as she sits in danger. If anything happens to her! I swear by the heavens, if anything happens to her! My mind is cut into ribbons that tear and turn with fear.

Torn and twisting, shredding and slipping. I cannot bear this. Non posso sopportare questo.

This woman is all there is. No matter my musings here, no matter where I stand on the planet, _she_ is all, she is air, earth, fire. She is my hearth, my home, my warmth, my fire and I shudder in terror at the thought she may be taken from me. Writing it here, putting ink to my greatest fears, it opens the universe to a world without her, a world where I cannot, will not exist.

Am I, then, a coward? If the unwillingness to exist lonely makes me coward, then so be it. As short as five years ago I would not have understood. The burden of my solitude was not heavy while I carried it, but set the burden down… With the knowledge of life with Bella aglow in my memory, continuing on in loneliness becomes a Herculean task I cannot, will not bear. Call me coward if you would. You cannot know the unbearable sweetness of her love.

How do I secure our home? How do I build without the sands of fear putting our foundation at risk?

Alice sees what Alice sees. Disparate patches, sewn together in haste. Unformed. Ineffective. Patches to cover the holes in our blanket of safety. Inaccettabile, inaceitável, unacceptable.

This time without her is a mistake. I should be with her. I should take her in my arms and never let her go. We need time – no matter what she says, no matter what tomorrow brings – we need to be alone. Together. We need time. Each grain that drops in the hourglass is a task, a chore that must be endured. A party. An evening. A night. A day. We need time.

The song is a dirge; the melody dark and foreboding. I must cleanse the notes, save the singer.

I must focus and pull myself in again. No matter my incoherent ramblings here, the fact remains that my love waits in peril, and I must close that wound. I must focus, for Bella's sake, for the sake of my sanity. I must focus on her protection, her safety. I can do this. I can, and I must. I will.

Bella, I swear this to you, by my head and by my hand, I shall give all that I am, all that I have to keep you safe. Your beating heart is my highest priority – above love, beyond care, past my dreams of you as my wife – I will keep you safe. I swear this by my inhuman flesh, by my will, by my love for you.

* * *

_**A/N: Edward's mind is racing, so if this seems a bit jumpy to you, it's because his thoughts are a bit jumpy and disorganized. Please leave comments, let me know what you're thinking.**_


	17. Chapter 17: Alliance

**Alliance**

It's not something I understand easily, but I trust her.

How can one small woman love the enormous monsters that surround her? She could never have known, coming to her father giving to her mother, the peril to which she was delivered**.** And yet, once knowing, she stayed and learned and loved and loved… Her heart is larger than mine and still beating, still human, still warm. In comparison, my heart is simply still.

The threats of violence against her life mean little to her in comparison to the threats of that which she loves. Though her thoughts are silent to me; her heart is not. Her love screams to me of danger, warning against the growing menace, but our existence is not in jeopardy. It is _her_ life in danger, her existence in jeopardy. She doesn't see this; it escapes her notice because those she loves are in danger. For Bella, we are in danger; Jacob is in danger.

Reassurance is futile. Even Jasper's mood manipulation will not ease her brow. If it were not so dire, I would laugh at her determination to save the creatures that could destroy her with no effort at all. How many times has she reassured me with a touch, a glance, and casual breath to blow across my brow? She loves us, she love them, and in her love, we stand united. It's not something I understand easily, but I must trust her.

Jacob and the pack will be with us. Save her parents, everyone she loves will engage to protect her and we will be triumphant, of this I'm certain. I worry that the wolves will lose control, or the pack may rid the world of all the vampires while the opportunity exists. I have not seen this in their minds, but the possibility must be considered. Is it my own interior voice that raises this worry? I doubt Jacob would withhold the chance to destroy me, if the opportunity arose. He does not believe my restraint would stay intact if the opposite scenario were in play. He doubts my love for Bella, which I suppose is right from his viewpoint. He judges by his eyes, by _his_ heart, by what he wants from her. The alliance to save her is a necessity, a requirement. This is a tenuous relationship, easily soured. But it is based in Bella's love, and in that basis, our alliance is strong. I trust her love. I trust her.

Still, I cannot believe that anyone, anywhere, at any time has ever felt the deep and unwavering love that stirs within me. She is the better part of me, the completion, the connection of the circle of my existence. I would take her from her, keep her in my arms: safe, sweet, stolen, mine. My life, my world, the stars, the heavens – all beat within her fragile breast. All that I am, all that I have ever been, thought, dreamed or desired, all of me rests in Bella's heart. She is everything I am and everything I am not. Her sobs break me; her sighs lift me; her smile restores me and releases me and grounds me. My love for her is the only living thing left within me and all I have left to live for.

And yet it is she, Bella, simple, delicate, fragile Bella whose heart guides us. Bella's love ignites us all, werewolf and vampire alike - how many times in our collective histories has that phrase been uttered? We unite in her presence, for her presence, in the auspices of her love. How have I never seen the size of her heart before now? How have I missed the span of her love? We are united by the expanse of her care, protected under her love. My love for her, as deep and wide as it is, is nothing – _nothing_ – compared to Bella's fathomless and strong heart.

I am profoundly moved. I am in awe. Bella's soul is the breath I breathe. It is no small coincidence that her blood sang to me: it was the siren call of her heart that brought me to her, to bind me forever to heart. I believed my yearnings to touch her beckoned me, yet, no. Whatever humanity left in me was tied up in her long, mahogany hair. I was swallowed up in the deep brown pools of her eyes and then resuscitated by her love.

Bella.

My Bella.

My Bella's loving heart.

It's not something I understand easily. I trust her. I trust her heart.

Carlisle will tell the family of the arrangements when they are alone. Their presence at the practice tonight will set the stage for battle; their absence will set the stage for our union. My journey will change, our paths will join and become intertwined irrevocably. The bricks are ready for mortar and the shape of our home is on the verge of reality.

It is no small thing to accept, to believe. I will love her always. I may never understand the depths of her love, but I trust her. I love her. And I will love her every single moment of forever.


End file.
